


Unfair

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Morning After, Sex Pollen, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22384120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: “You saysex pollen,all I hear ispunch me in my lame ass nerd face.”Seth and Kate are exposed to a Xibalban plant that's taken root on Earth with horrifying consequences. This is what happens next.
Relationships: Kate Fuller/Seth Gecko
Comments: 18
Kudos: 87





	Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> So, it hit me all of a sudden that this is a universe in which sex pollen could actually feasibly exist, and I love the trope to death, so here I am taking a swing at it!
> 
>  **CONTENT WARNING!** for all the things generally associated with this trope: dub/non-con, consent issues, unsafe sex. The sex doesn't occur graphically on page but is heavily alluded to.
> 
> If you like the fic, please be sure to leave kudos, and especially comments! Fanfiction is kinda free, but only insomuch as you pay your content creators in feedback!

The memories come back to Seth like smog; heavy and oppressive and _absolutely toxic_. 

Lips on skin. Hands in hair. Nails scratching, teeth biting, blood welling, spilling, staining stiff, flower-scented motel sheets; first a rich, fiery crimson, then a dull, oxidized brown as minutes stretched to hours upon hours of bodies writhing, sweating, bleeding – _fucking_. 

_“You say_ sex pollen _, all I hear is_ punch me in my lame ass nerd face. _”_

_“Fuck off, Seth.” Richard rolls his eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses that are wholly cosmetic and Seth sneers at him. “There’s a rogue faction of culebras just south of the border cutting their product with this stuff. Nasty little Xibalban weed. Escaped through the Gate, before we destroyed it.”_

_Seth huffs. “Another of – how many is it, now? Jesus, Richie, why didn’t we just leave the damn thing open?”_

_Richard is quick on his feet, eyes slitted and yellow as he shoves Seth back, knocks him into the cheap, plastic motel table and sneers. “People are gonna get hurt.”_

_“So?” Seth snaps, with a curl of his lip and a hearty shove back. “Since when do I – since when do_ you _– give a flying fuck about people getting hurt?”_

_He’s quiet for a moment – stoic – serious in a way that sets the hair on the back of Seth’s neck on end._

_“Believe me, brother. We’re talking about a kind of hurt we still have enough of our souls left to wanna stop.”_

“Kate.” 

Seth’s voice is rough, and raw, and wrecked. His tongue is sandpaper, abrasive against the roof of his mouth, and his throat burns as the walls stick and unstick, tacky with dehydration. His arms move like lead weights as he shifts on his stomach, presses his pins-and-needles palms against the mattress and drags himself onto his side to see purple-red hair fanned across umber-red streaks of blood. 

“Katie,” he groans, pressing the side of his face against the stiff, starchy pillowcase to clear away some of the grime that feels stuck to every inch of his skin like a vacuum-sealed film, encasing him, _suffocating_ him. 

She’s still beside him, laid out on her back with the sheets bunched around her knees, a vibrant landscape of snow-pale skin, the peaks of her nipples, the hill of her belly, the sinkhole of her navel, and the canyon between her thighs. Harsh bruises and crescent-shaped bites contour the curves of her body like topographical lines, curled around her hips, and her neck, and her wrists, and the swell of her breasts. 

Seth watches her nose crinkle, her body rousing to consciousness as the bed shifts and he whispers her name, low and hoarse, like a Hail Mary apology, something wistful and without hope. 

Kate blinks. The mossy green ring around her pupils is almost translucent in profile in the early morning light as it seeps through bedraggled, off-colour blinds. Mascara runs in patchy, broken lines down her cheeks, curling around the corner of her jawline just left of her chin, down the sides of her temples and into her hairline. The darkest of the smearing rings her eyes, and her lashes clump together in uneven bunches. 

She makes a small, soft sound, something malaised and uncertain. Her head rolls against the pillow as she gets her bearings. She presses her forearms against the mattress and pushes, enough to brace her shoulders against the headboard. She’s not quite sitting up, but she’s no longer flat on her back. Her tits are just big enough that gravity pulls them apart and down, and Seth is lost in the revelry of watching them move for a heartbeat before reality sinks back in. 

“What did we–”

She mutters the words to herself, cuts her own question short as disbelief and something akin to dread colour her tone. Her shoulders shake, a nanoscopic, buzzing kind of tremor just under her skin, like a chill up her spine. 

Seth reaches out on instinct, bears his weight on his hip and offers Kate his hand, his palm sliding against the curve of her shoulder, fingers brushing errant strands of hair off her neck. 

She recoils, pulls in on herself, bends her elbows and brings her forearms up to cover the length of her chest. She curls her knees, the neatly trimmed patch of hair between her legs disappearing between the fold of her stomach and the tops of her thighs. She shivers again, harder, more pronounced, and Seth’s mouth foams as bile rises in his throat. 

“Fuck,” Seth pants, the air knocking out of his lungs as he scrambles back to give Kate her space, until his foot brushes the carpeted floor and his knees leverage him off the mattress. “I shouldn’t have– fuck! I shouldn’t have touched you – I shouldn’t have –” 

She scrambles after him, the instant he pulls away, crawling on her hands and knees and reaching clumsily for him. She catches his right arm with her right hand, stops him dead, hoists her weight up onto her knees and wraps herself around the inky black spires of Seth’s tattoo, cradles his arm to her bare chest, pressing the greasy flat of her forehead against his rotator cuff. 

“I’m sorry,” Kate whispers, her voice just as hoarse as Seth’s, sounding quiet, and tired, and defeated. “I shouldn’t have flinched like that.” 

She’s still holding Seth by the arm, and he’s tense under the touch. One twist of his wrist and his fingers could be inside her again, the way his hand has no choice but to dangle between her parted thighs. He remembers the way it felt, just barely through the haze of the fog, to have her warm and wet and open around him. He remembers it with his fingers, like he remembers it with his tongue. With his cock. 

He remembers the way her skin broke, how she bled between her legs the way she bled in the places he bit her. 

_The plant demands blood, carnally_ , Richie warned him, but Seth hadn’t listened. 

He wishes he’d listened. 

He understands now how the effects of the plant are perfectly suited for manipulating culebras. Even without fangs, they tore into each other. Seth is faintly aware of the places he’s tender – the curve of his neck, the jut of his clavicle, the length of his back – where Kate bit and scratched until she broke skin. 

“Don’t apologize,” Seth says, tense and threadbare. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you,” Kate replies. 

Seth shakes his head, but he can’t deny her the comfort she’s seeking, pressing harder against his arm until he’s forced to bear the weight with locked knees. He settles his free hand around the curve of her skull, strokes her hair with his broad palm, his fingers just catching between the strands at the very tips. 

“I didn’t fight it,” he admits, because he can’t play the part of chivalry for her. He kidnapped her at gunpoint, and abandoned her on the side of the road, and _fucking got her killed_ , and he didn’t fight the effects of the plant when it entered his system. 

He can’t even remember noticing something was wrong. Everything he’s felt for Kate has always been so hot. He didn’t notice when it got hotter, didn’t recognize the transgression when he cupped her over her jeans and stuck his tongue down her throat, when he peeled her out of her tank top and took her nipples in his mouth. He fucked her raw, over and over and over again, and it only ever felt _right_. 

“There was nothing to fight,” Kate says. Seth doesn’t know if she means the plant’s influence was too strong, or if it’s something else, an implication of something Seth rarely lets himself consider, that there’s something between them, something mutual, that Kate didn’t notice the pot coming up to a boil because she was already in the water, too. 

Sighing heavy, Seth presses a kiss to the top of Kate’s head and breathes in the morning smell of her, fruity and faintly sour, a mix of lingering shampoo and dried sweat. After a moment, he takes a small step back and tugs her along with him, coaxing her off the bed and onto her feet. She’s so small beside him, it’s nothing to curl her under his arm and lead her into the adjoining bathroom. 

Seth arranges her with the small of her back pressed against the bathroom counter, and Kate lets him position her without complaint. She looks haggard, the way her eyes fall into heavy slits, the long, slow pulls of her breath. He forgoes a proper shower in favour of getting her back into bed, turns the sink faucet on instead and grabs a washcloth from the hook to soap up.

He’s careful where her skin is broken, cleaning the wounds methodically, but gently all the same. He moves to her face next, wiping away the remnants of sweat and smeared makeup. He puts the cloth down on the counter in favour of a brush, then coaxes the knots from her hair, one section at a time. When he’s done, Seth unloops a hair-tie from the base of the handle and pulls Kate’s hair back into a messy sort of bun at the top of her head. She’s pliant under his hands as he works, like his touch is nothing to be afraid of. 

Seth doesn’t feel the same, but he’s too selfish to correct her. 

Wetting the cloth again to wring out the makeup and get it warm, Seth brings the cloth to Kate’s stomach to wipe away the dry, flaky patches where he cum’s dried against her skin. He brings the cloth lower, so incredibly slowly, testing the waters, and Kate shuffles easily, parting her legs for him. 

Seth cleans between her thighs, wipes away his cum and hers, and the traces of her blood from her ruptured hymen. He gets the cloth clean again and passes it over her mons, then down over her lips, nudging them apart. The fluids there are still wet, and they leave a trail behind as he pulls the cloth back the first time around. Folding the cloth in half, Seth goes back with the fresh side and finishes his work. Kate leans her head against his breastbone as he does. 

“I’m sorry,” Seth whispers into the crown of her head when he’s finally through, placing another delicate kiss against her hair. 

Kate shivers against him. The bathroom is tiled, colder than the rest of the motel room. 

She repeats back his words from earlier. “Don’t apologize.” 

Her lips press against the centre of his sternum, firm and purposeful. 

Seth makes quick work of passing the washcloth across his body. He’s not nearly as careful as with Kate; the rough terrycloth stings where it tugs against broken skin and dried cum tangled in pubic hair. Kate leans half against the countertop, half against his side as he works. 

When he’s sufficiently clean, Seth takes Kate by the hand, threads their fingers together and leads her back into the main room of their motel. He exits the bathroom first and takes a surreptitious glance around for Richie, but his brother is nowhere to be found. With the sun rising fast in the sky, he isn’t likely to be back before nightfall, and Seth is glad for it, tugging Kate past the ruined sheets of their bed from the night before and turning down the sheets of what’s meant to be Richie’s. 

Kate follows after him wordlessly as he crawls to the far side of the bed. As soon as he’s settled, Kate curls against him, fitting the length of her back against his hard, broad chest. He wraps his arm around her waist, pushes his nose against the fragrant skin of her neck, and lets himself be sad for one rare, quiet moment. 

This never should have happened. 

After everything, he and Kate deserved a soft romance. This is harsh, and messy, and cruel, and whatever God Kate believes in can fuck Himself, honestly. 

None of it’s fair. 

Kate twines her finger around Seth’s and brings his knuckles to her lips, kissing them sweetly. Her breath through her nose is heavy against the back of his hand, and he feels his sadness mirrored in her. 

This isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair – not to either of them, and certainly not when they’re together. 

But lying here, with Kate’s back pressed against his chest, Seth can accept unfair. 

Kate’s legs tangle with his own, and he thinks, maybe she can, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](https://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
